


wlk thru fire 4 u

by ruthvsreality



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: BDSM, Dirty Talk, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Slow Burn, discussion of finances, mild exhibitionism, sugar daddy -esque behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:29:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22643818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthvsreality/pseuds/ruthvsreality
Summary: At the end of the day, Lovett is a giving person.If only Dan could learn to take what's his.
Relationships: Dan Pfeiffer/Jon Lovett
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	1. brought to you by... vanilla ice cream

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [These Inconvenient Fireworks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/310529) by [amberography](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberography/pseuds/amberography). 

It starts, as many things do, with an ad read.    
  
“This episode of Pod Save America is brought to you by Semi-Sweet.”    
  
“Love Semi-Sweet,” Tommy comments quietly.    
  
Jon continues the pitch.“Semi-Sweet is the new way for you to get all of your favorite desserts delivered every three months right to your doorstep. Just sign up, choose your favorite flavors from a wide spectrum of goodies from candied oranges to chocolate ganache cake -”    
  
“What even is a ganache?” Dan interrupts.    
  
“I think that’s Yiddish for ‘car wreck’,” Lovett jokes. Tommy and Dan both giggle while Jon cracks a wide grin.    
  
“-- and every three months Semi-Sweet will send you a carefully curated box of desserts designed by real chefs trained in France.” 

“It doesn’t say what they’re trained in,” Lovett adds. “They could be trained in spying.”    
  
“Like secret agents?” Dan says encouragingly. He’s very good at  _ yes, and- _ ing. “Secret agent chefs?” 

“Fruit tarts! Made by real assassins,” Tommy chimes in. Dan hides his grin behind his hand.   
  
Lovett puts on his best Russian accent. It’s difficult to do around a laugh. “My recipe, I cannot tell you, or have to kill you.”    
  
“This month with the code PODSAVE, listeners get fifty dollars off their latest shipment of desserts, which -- if you so choose -- will include ice cream flavors such as balsamic strawberry swirl, chocolate chip cookie, and fig and blackberry crisp. Dan, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” Jon asks. It seems he’s trying his damndest not to look at either Lovett or Tommy.    
  
“Oh, I like vanilla,” Dan says with a shrug.    
  
“Dan seems like a vanilla guy,” Lovett quips. Tommy and Jon look at each other once and proceed to lose it to either side of him, giggling like a couple of schoolkids. Dan immediately goes a bright shade of pink - perhaps balsamic strawberry pink.    
  
“ _ Oh my God,”  _ Tommy blurts. 

“Leave it in!” Dan says, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Anyone who says Dan can’t be just as mischievous as either Lovett or Tommy or Jon has not been listening closely enough.   
  
“I’m going to act like I don’t know what that means,” Jon inserts smoothly, taking a deep breath. “Semi-Sweet starts at just twenty dollars per month, and if you go to semisweet.com, that’s s-e-m-i-sweet.com and enter code PODSAVE, you can get fifty dollars off, that’s fifty dollars off your first purchase, Semi-Sweet makes life better with…”    
  
“Jon, I’d tell you what vanilla means, but I’d have to turn you into a ganache,” Lovett says.    
  
“... every bite.”    
  
The ad read ends and the four of them release one more pent-up set of giggles before gathering up their things. It’s the end of the day and Lovett, at least, needs to do at least one more productive thing before he can go home.    
  
“You two are going to be the death of this office,” Jon says, pointing at both Dan and Lovett with a smile.    
  


“I think that would be the first media empire taken down by Lovett’s jokes,” Dan replies. He winks at Lovett and Lovett feels the familiar rush of affection.    
  
“But it won't be the last,” Lovett adds, widening his eyes dramatically.    
  
The four of them go their separate ways, each working on their own projects.    
  
Lovett keeps things professional in the office - but he can’t let them get  _ too  _ professional, you know?    
  
\---    
  
Lovett is the last to leave the office at the end of the day. Even Tanya has gone home. He’s still rewriting a monologue for the New York show -- most people wouldn’t think it, but these things take a long time.    
  
He packs up his things once he’s (somewhat) satisfied with his work, and turns off the lights in the office as he goes. Once he gets to the lounge, there’s a familiar figure sitting on the couch, tapping away at his phone.    
  
“You waited for me,” Lovett says.    
  
Dan looks up. “I thought maybe we could go out to dinner.” He stands, grabbing his backpack. Lovett stays where he is; he just wants to look at Dan a little longer, take in his dimpled smile and peach fuzz hair. 

“It’s…” Lovett looks at his phone. “Seven at night. And you have to drive back tomorrow.”    
  
“Not until the afternoon. Unless…” Dan walks up to Lovett until there’s barely inches between them. “I can stay the weekend.”    
  
Lovett rolls his eyes, grinning wryly. “Ah, so this ‘dinner’ can also be classified as ‘bribery’. No wonder you cornered me alone in the office.” 

In truth, Dan has stayed at Lovett’s house nearly every other weekend for a month. Lovett had honestly expected him at home already.   
  
“Maybe,” Dan admits. “But there’s another reason. When we’re alone in the office, I can do this.”    
  
Dan leans in and captures Lovett’s mouth in a soft, sweet kiss. Lovett suppresses a shiver and responds with enthusiasm. After four months, it still feels as good as the first time.    
  
“We could go to Mel’s,” Lovett suggests once they break apart. “Because they have -”    
  
“Ice cream,” Dan agrees. “That ad got me thinking about it. Shall we?” 

Dinner goes well. They talk about what they’re working on, and how their days were. Lovett thought at the beginning that he’d get bored of dating someone who worked with him, or that the other person would get bored of him. But, it turns out, Dan and Lovett have almost entirely separate work schedules and projects, so while they do work in the same office and speak on the same podcast, there’s still plenty to talk about.    
  
After all, there  _ is  _ an election coming up. The Iowa caucuses are only a few months away. (Caucus -- isn’t that a great word? It feels very certain in his mouth - like Pundit, or joystick. Lovett thinks so. He tells Dan; Dan agrees after some thought.)    
  
After dinner is ice cream, where Dan orders -- of course -- soft serve vanilla. Lovett moves to get out his wallet, but Dan waves him off when he presents a few bills to the cashier. “My treat,” he says.    
  
“Are you sure?” Lovett asks.    
  
“Sure I’m sure. We split the bill for dinner,” Dan says, as though this somehow explains everything.    
  
They receive their treats and look around for someplace to sit outside that isn’t in the dark.    
  
“Hey,” Lovett says as they walk over to the park benches outside the diner, “You didn’t… you weren’t bothered about what I said earlier today, were you?”    
  
“What, the joke about my being vanilla?”    
  
“Yeah. I mean, I could’ve -- that could’ve been harassment --”    


“You’re fine,” Dan reassures him. He takes a lick of his cone and Lovett makes sure he’s focused on the task at hand and not on Dan’s pink tongue. “I thought it was funny, even if it’s not quite true.”    
  
“Oh?” Lovett raises an eyebrow as he peers over his milkshake. “You disagree with my entirely made-up statement?”    
  
“Sure. I can --” Dan looks around and then leans in, lowering his voice to that deep fucking register that drives Lovett nuts. “I can be kinky.” 

Lovett grins. “Is this the part where I learn you’re secretly a professional dominatrix?”    
  
“Wouldn’t it be dominat _ or _ ?”

“Hey, you’re the expert.”    
  
Dan rolls his eyes. “No, nothing like that. I just -- I know what’s up. I’ve been around the block.” 

Lovett is usually willing to take Dan at his word, but the way he’s avoiding Lovett’s gaze and clearing his throat is textbook deception. “Well…” Lovett considers, “how far have you gone?”    
  
“Like, kink-wise?”    
  
“Sure. Tied someone up? Gagged them? Ordered them around?”    
  
“Uh… I mean, I’ve done some research.”    
  
“Research or --” Lovett waggles his eyebrows. “ _ Research _ ?”

“Both.”    
  
“And then with partners you’ve…”    
  
“Well, I’ve…” Dan trails off. “Okay, so I haven’t exactly  _ done  _ anything in real life -”    
  
“You’re vanilla, Dan!” Lovett laughs delightedly. “You’re so fucking vanilla! It’s okay! I don’t mind!”    
  
“How -- hold on! -- How can I be vanilla when --” Dan lowers his voice again. “When I watch a lot of kinky porn?”    
  
“Being into something in porn does  _ not  _ mean you’re into it in real life. Otherwise, I would have fucked a whole lot more college professors, and I’d be sleeping with six guys, one of whom is a priest.”    
  
“That’s pretty kinky, babe.”    
  
“Not if it’s not real life!” Lovett waves a hand dismissively. “You’ve gotta do it in real life first before you know. Now, if you  _ want  _ to do that, then…”    
  
“No thank you,” Dan says quickly. He flashes a smile. “I like our sex life without any additional bells and whistles, thank you. I'm happy with what we do.”    
  
“Whatever you want,” Lovett says. “I’ll give you whatever you want, you just have to ask.”    
  
Dan rolls his eyes. “Jonathan Ira Lovett, endlessly generous. A gentleman and a scholar.” It’s teasing but it’s fond. “When I have something I want from you, I’ll ask for it.”    
  
Right now, in the yellow light of the street lamps, Dan looks absolutely radiant -- so bright and beautiful -- if he asked, Lovett would give him the world. 

\---

Jon Lovett thinks political conventions are stupid.    
  
No, not like, the Democratic National Convention. Or even “conventions” as in traditional ways things are done -- candidate comes to State X, candidate tries State X’s local food specialty, candidate proclaims it to be delicious even though it tastes like a pile of Z. Lovett thinks political conventions where lots of pundits and political organizers get together are stupid.    
  
He goes to Politicon, and he… kind of likes it. But other ones just remind him that he is in a job of which many, many people are suspicious, and show him that getting hundreds of liberals into a hall to talk shop will either turn him into a communist or a conservative libertarian. 

Votercon is meant to be about voter enfranchisement and organizing; it’s a bipartisan convention in New York City where Democrats and Republicans get together and talk about voter rights and making it easier to vote in America. Presumably they all sing Kumbayaa at the end; Lovett doesn’t know because he’s usually gone by then. If he sounds cynical about all of this, it’s because it gets exhausting to put great ideas out into the atmosphere for three days, and then return to earth and realize for the rest of the year half of the people you talked to will actually be fighting  _ against  _ the very people who would implement those good ideas. 

It’s nice to get a break in between panels and podcasting. Right now, Lovett is sitting in the back row at an author’s panel, talking about political writing and how they became “experts” in their respective fields. The panel is fairly liberal, but there’s one or two moderates at the end. Dan is up on stage; if he wasn’t Lovett’s boyfriend, Lovett would have gone back to the hotel by now. (He still might -- would Dan mind that? Lovett hasn’t ever asked. He should do that.)    
  
Somehow, the discussion has moved over to healthcare. Healthcare, the mother of all political debate topics. Lovett knows how important it is to voters all across the country. He also knows that four men and two women from all across the political spectrum are not going to solve the question of healthcare in one hour in room A17 of the Javitz Center. 

“Listen, listen,” one author says, waving down some disgruntled noises from the audience. “I like Bernie. I think he’s a great guy. He won’t call me on my birthday, which is great -- I don’t want to be called on my birthday.” That earns a laugh or two. “I just think that, when it comes to socializing healthcare -- like, Bernie calls himself a socialist. Once we go down that road -- isn’t that a bit of a slippery slope? Won’t we try to socialize other areas of our lives? How we drive, how we eat? And while I’m sure some people might be into that, I don’t want the government running anything it shouldn’t absolutely have to -- at times, it’s not very good at running things!”    
  
There’s a few noises of disagreement from the audience -- Lovett arches his neck and looks around to see people’s faces.    
  
“Okay, well, any response from the panel?” The moderator asks. 

Several people begin to speak up, but Dan raises his hand, and the panel makes way for him. “I mean, I have a lot of issues with that statement, but the slippery slope argument is a fallacy.”    
  
“I beg your pardon?” The guy replies. Lovett sits up a little straighter in his chair.    
  
“I said it’s a fallacy. An argument where the logic doesn’t actually work. When you argue that there’s a slippery slope, you’re automatically jumping to extremes without providing any proof that those things might happen. It’s effective in causing fear, but it doesn’t really work if you apply any sort of logic to it.”    
  
The author -- maybe he’s also a podcaster? Lovett feels like he’s seen him before -- looks at him blankly.    
  
“Okay,” Dan sits up in his chair and begins gesturing, “say, for example, my sister goes to an all-girls’ school. Our parents send her there because they think she’ll get a better education, and will be better supported in an all-female environment. Is single-sex education okay?”    
  
“Well, it’s up for debate, and I’d have to see some data, but I’d say yes,” the other man says with a shrug. “I don’t see how -”    
  
“But you wouldn’t say that single-race education is okay, right?” Dan nods encouragingly. “I think the courts solved that one a while back.”    
  
“Damn right,” says one woman in the audience.   
  
“Not that we’ve gotten rid of it,” reminds the only woman of color on the panel.

“Uh, no,” the guy replies with a nervous chuckle.    
  
“Of course not -- but it wouldn’t be fair of me to say, ‘We can’t have same-sex education because it’s a slippery slope.’ It distracts from the real issue at hand -- it's useful to shut down debate -- and it’s a tactic Republicans use all the time.” Dan shrugs. “I would know, I talk about often with the dog I married.”    
  
The crowd laughs, and the moderator takes the opportunity to switch topics.    
  
Afterwards, when they’re walking back to their hotel, Lovett takes Dan’s hand and squeezes it. He blames the lights from the skyscrapers; they’re making him feel twinkly and affectionate.   
  
“You did a good job at the panel today,” he says.    
  
Dan squeezes his hand back. “You’re sweet. Though I’m surprised you weren’t asleep the whole time.”    
  
“I managed to keep my eyes open.” Lovett stops them so they can peer into a window of a brightly lit comic book store, neon signs flashing down on them. “Your slippery slope thing was… pretty well rehearsed.”    
  
“It should have been,” Dan says, looking over Lovett’s shoulder. “I’ve had to make that same argument to my parents plenty of times.”    
  
“About what?”    
  
“About gay marriage.”    
  
Lovett stands up straight and turns around. “You’ve argued with your parents about gay marriage?”    
  
“Sure, plenty of times. You can imagine I was pretty passionate about it.”    
  
No, Lovett can’t. He didn’t even think about that - Dan was in the closet, still, back then. It’s still difficult to imagine him as always having been bisexual; in Lovett’s mind, he  _ was  _ straight, and  _ now  _ he’s bi. He knows that’s not true, but that’s how he still sees it. “Yeah.”    
  
“Thankfully they came around. They’re not exactly going to pride parades, but… you know how parents are.”    
  
Lovett swallows. “I do.”    
  
He takes Dan’s hand and they keep walking.    
  
“Dan,” Lovett says, “if you want -- if you want to come on Lovett or Leave It and -- I don’t know, talk about your experiences or -- or do a Gay News segment or something -- we could… we could do that. We wouldn’t -- we wouldn’t have to talk about  _ us,  _ it could just -- just be about you.” Senior Advisor to the President and Secret Defender of Gay Marriage, Dan Pfeiffer.    
  
“That’s really sweet of you, Jon.” Dan nudges him a little with his shoulder. “I’ll have to decline for now, but… thank you for the offer.” 

The two of them stop at an intersection. Here, in New York, nobody passing them bats an eye at their holding hands. (Let's be real, had they been naked on vespas holding hands, then  _ maybe  _ they'd get a single side-eye. From a  _ tourist _ .)  
  
“So,” Lovett says, trying to lighten the mood (the one he’s set in his own head). “What do you want to do tonight? We could watch a movie on demand, we could play a game on my laptop…”    
  
“I was thinking,” Dan says, “that we’d go to our hotel and I’d kiss you all over.”    
  
Lovett grins. “Oh, well, you know what they say, Dan.”    
  
“What do they say?”    
  
“One thing leads to another…” 

\---  
  
That night, with the lights of midtown streaming in through the windows, Lovett watches Dan’s chest rise and fall as he sleeps.    
  
Dan gives Lovett a new fact about him every day. Lovett doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of learning.    
  
He just hopes he’s giving Dan enough in return. 


	2. brought to you by... body lotion

Relationships, Lovett has learned, are about compromise. You want to get pizza; I want to get Chinese food -- we’ll go for Chinese tonight and then you can go next time. You want to watch a crime thriller, I want to watch Star Trek -- we’ll watch one of the darker episodes of Next Generation. You insist that texting is far better than phone calls, I believe that phone calls are integral to human communication and I also think your voice is really sexy -- we’ll text when I’m in a public place, and then use phone calls when we’re in private.   
  
Through this, Lovett has discovered yet another aspect of Dan that he holds dear to him: Dan texts with the flair of an eleven-year-old girl.   
  
_ What knd of oj did u get? (orange emoji) (orange emoji) (egg emoji) (orange emoji) (heart emoji) _ _   
_ _   
_Standing in the chip aisle of the grocery store, Lovett quirks his lips up at the text. 

_ Some pulp, _ he texts back. _ I know you wanted ‘basically a whole orange peeled and squished’ but they were all out. _

_ I know *u* wanted (water emoji) with (orange emoji) flavoring but u got me pulp anyway. Thx :-) _

_ You’re going to a magic show at 3 in the afternoon with my mother. _ Lovett sets his phone down for a moment and grabs a few cups of yogurt from the dairy section. _ I’m willing to drink your type of oj in return. We all make sacrifices. _ He examines the text and then sends a winky face emoji to make sure Dan knows he’s just joking around. 

(Fran always wants to do an activity or attend a performance whenever she visits her son. Lovett can’t blame her -- attending a show leaves less time for awkward conversations, and then they have something to talk about at dinner.)   
  
_ Not a sacrifice at all to b w ur mom when she visits. Wld wlk thru fire 4 u. this is no problem. (fire emoji) (heart emoji) _

Lovett clenches his phone as if to mirror the way his heart feels as though it's being squeezed, takes a deep breath, and moves on to the produce section. 

When he gets back after running all of his errands, Dan is in the bedroom, standing in front of the mirror. Pundit is at his feet, looking at her reflection. Dan tilts his head and Pundit tilts hers, too.   
  
“I need help putting away groceries,” Lovett says.   
  
“Okay, just a second,” Dan replies. “Does this shirt make me look fat?”   
  
Lovett blinks at him. “I’ve learned enough from movies and television to know there’s no good answer to that question.” 

“Fair,” Dan concedes amicably. “But… does this shirt look, y’know, nice?”   
  
“Definitely,” Lovett says, observing the neat blue-and-black button down. “You look very boy-next-door.”   
  
“The kind you’d take home to mom?”   
  
“I think you’re stressing out too much over the fact that it’s my mom. She’d love you if you showed up in a potato sack. A burlap sack. A My Little Pony t-shirt.”   
  
“I’m allowed to stress out about this. It’s my right as a boyfriend.” Dan looks at himself over in the mirror one more time, stretching his neck out a bit and standing up straight. “What do you think, Pundit? Your dad isn’t helping much.”   
  
Pundit barks.   
  
The magic show is at one of the many, many theatres/cultural centers in Los Angeles. It’s by some group called the Illusionists, and it isn’t very good. Lovett doesn’t consider himself a magician by any standard, and yet he can figure out some of the tricks they perform as they’re happening. Still, his mother is smiling by the time the lights come up, and that good mood carries them all the way to dinner.   
  
“I used to be into magic as a kid,” Dan says. Lovett takes a bite of his ravioli and considers this.   
  
“That tracks,” Lovett says. “Mom, was I ever into magic as a kid?”   
  
“No, you were more into science,” Fran replies. “Always running around -- he had this telescope he would refuse to put down, he was convinced he was the next Galileo --”   
  
“Galileo was killed by the Church for his beliefs,” Lovett quips.   
  
“Only because he told the truth,” Dan counters. “I think honest is a good word to describe you, wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Lovett?” He still calls her that even though she’s said to call her Fran -- Lovett could probably analyze that further in the context of Dan’s upbringing and how he relates to authority figures, but he can’t psychoanalyze his boyfriend _ and _ entertain his mom at the same time. He has his limits.   
  
“I would definitely agree,” Fran says. “Honest, sometimes to a fault. I remember once when he was in college he called me up and told me that he’d just told a professor --”   
  
“Okay!” Lovett interrupts. “Let’s change the subject. Dan,” he begins, turning to the side in his chair, “what sort of magic did you do as a kid? Clairvoyance? Divination?”   
  
“I think those mean the same thing, but neither,” Dan replies. He’s glowing; he does that so often with Lovett. Lovett has him in a loop of amusement and he never wants to let him go. “I mostly tried to do the rabbit-out-of-a-hat thing, or making a dove appear under a pot.”   
  
“That’s a lot of animals to keep in the house,” Lovett’s mother observes. 

“I had the stuffed versions, not the real ones,” Dan assures her. “My mother insisted.”   
  
“Good woman,” Fran says approvingly. She smiles warmly, and Dan beams in response.   
  
Lovett is watching this little back and forth and heroically refrains from waving his arms and yelling and jumping up and down in victory. _ They like each other! See! Sometimes interactions between social circles don’t end in disaster! _

“What if you could make anything disappear?” Lovett says idly.   
  
“Like, as a magic trick?” Dan asks. He takes a sip of his drink and Lovett watches the condensation on the glass cling to his fingertips as he sets it down.   
  
“No, like in real life. Say you could make anyone or anything disappear. What would you pick?”   
  
“Donald Trump,” Dan says easily. “I’d make him disappear.”   
  
“I was going to go with Mitch McConnell,” Lovett adds, “but that’s a pretty good answer.”   
  
“Is it, though?” Fran asks. “I mean, if you got rid of Trump, wouldn’t you be stuck with Pence?”   
  
“That’s true.” Dan nods. “And I mean, how do we define ‘disappear’? Does the person _ die? _ Because that gives us a whole other world of problems.” He turns to his boyfriend. “Lovett?”   
  
“What are you looking at me for?”   
  
“You’re the one who posed the question.”   
  
“Disappearing acts have consequences, Jonathan,” Fran points out mildly.   
  
Lovett rolls his eyes. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind the next time I vanish in a puff of smoke. As for the question, I’ll confess I didn’t compose a detailed outline for the thought experiment I literally came up with thirty seconds ago.”   
  
Both Dan and Lovett’s mom enjoy that. The dinner continues with lively conversation and when they drop Fran off at her hotel (Lovett _ offered _ to have her stay at his house, for the record), she even gives Dan a kiss on the cheek goodbye.   
  
“That was really nice,” Lovett says on the drive home. He taps Dan’s arm and Dan takes his hand off the steering wheel to hold Lovett’s. “You’re a very good boyfriend.”   
  
“I knew your mom would be great,” Dan replies. “She has half your DNA, after all. Or, you have half of hers -- you know what I mean. My point is, you had no reason to worry.”   
  
“I wasn’t worried! You’re the one who played dress-up in the mirror this morning.”   
  
Dan laughs. “I seem to remember a few weeks back that you spent nearly fifteen minutes picking out a set of shoes to wear for --”   
  
“That was for a _ live show, _ Dan! That’s in front of tons of people! Totally different.”   
  
The give-and-take continues all the way home, and Lovett feels perfectly at ease.   
  
\---

“Okay,” Dan says, “now you’re just teasing me.”   
  
It’s Sunday, a week after Lovett successfully navigated a visit from his mother, and two weeks after a trip to Nevada for an episode of Lovett or Leave It. Lovett has specifically cleared out his schedule, and has designated this day -- Sunday -- as his day off. He woke up late, he ate breakfast late, and Dan came back from his errands to find him only just getting out of the shower in the middle of the afternoon. 

Long showers are good. There are few luxuries in life as wonderful as a long, hot shower. Lovett had scrubbed himself clean, shaved, and relaxed. Now, he’s in his boxers in the still-warm bathroom, applying lotion to his skin. It’s important to moisturize; most men don’t know that. Hell, most _ people _ don’t know that. But Lovett isn’t about to become as flaky as a vanilla wafer; no sir, he’s going to smell like shea butter and essence of almond.   
  
Dan came into the bedroom a few minutes ago to get his laptop; but it sits abandoned on the bed as he leans against the doorway, watching Lovett rub lotion all over his skin.   
  
Lovett may or may not be teasing a little. Who’s to say? It’s just that Los Angeles can be _ so _ sunny sometimes, and the heat can really hurt his skin, and if he really needs to rub at his hips and shoulders and neck and chest to make sure he’s soft and smooth, then so be it.   
  
He pointedly makes eye contact with Dan in the mirror and tries not to think about lions surveying the savannah for their prey. Lovett takes another scoop of lotion from the little tub and bends down to rub it over his legs.   
  
“You’re purring again,” he says casually. Dan’s making that noise he makes sometimes when he’s either a) turned on or b) extremely satisfied. It’s a low rumble that comes from deep within his chest; he vehemently denies he does it.   
  
“I am not,” Dan says, stopping his purring abruptly. “But _ you _ are teasing me.”   
  
Lovett shrugs, his eyes widening to feign innocence. He turns and presents Dan with the little tub of lotion. “Help me with my back and shoulders?” He asks. His voice is sugar-sweet.   
  
Dan stands up straight, his muscles shifting as he moves to his full height. Lovett is surprised he doesn’t growl when he says, “if you insist.”   
  
Lovett smiles. Dan would never say no to something like this; Lovett might as well be handing him Sixers tickets.   
  
“Face the mirror,” Dan says simply, motioning with his finger. Lovett waggles his eyebrows a little but obediently turns around, his hands on the bathroom counter.   
  
Dan takes a generous helping of the lotion in the tub, rubs it between his palms, and then steps over so he’s bracketing Lovett’s feet with his own. Lovett can feel the heat of him against his back, the soft cotton of his shirt. 

Dan’s hand just barely grazes his side before it moves under Lovett’s arm and he takes Lovett’s hand in his own; Lovett can feel Dan’s breath on his neck, can feel how his damp skin gets goosebumps in anticipation. Elsewhere in the house, jazz music plays softly on Dan’s phone. “Palm up,” Dan says. Lovett obeys.   
  
Dan’s thumbs dig into the meat of Lovett’s palm, slowly moving out to massage each one of Lovett’s fingers. It’s the perfect amount of pressure and glide; Lovett feels the release of tension radiate from his hand all the way up his body.   
  
“This is an interesting place to start,” he murmurs.   
  
Dan hums and presses an idle kiss to Lovett’s shoulder. “Some of us used to write for work,” he teases gently. “We know the importance of these tendons and muscles.”   
  
“I don’t just _ write _ with my hands, you know,” Lovett replies.

Dan moves to his other hand. His body shifts, moves closer to Lovett. His steady presence is enveloping; Lovett leans into it. “I do know, actually,” Dan murmurs directly into his ear.  
  
Dan’s thumbs move up Lovett’s arm, up, up, until he seems satisfied. Then he moves to Lovett’s other arm and rubs there, too, using the lotion to keep everything smooth. Lovett’s left feeling less like he’s lost tension in his muscles and more like he’s gained something, a layer of heat and warmth. Instead of losing stress, he’s gaining relaxation, like a balm over his skin. Each of Dan’s touches marks him. He imagines Victorian women in fancy dresses, donned up in white satin gloves. Perhaps he’s covered in Dan’s touches like a layer of fabric. 

“God, you’re pretty,” Dan murmurs. Another kiss, this time below Lovett’s jawline. His mouth is wet and pink and Lovett watches him in the mirror as he moves his hands up Lovett’s sides.   
  
Lovett jumps a little, and there’s a huff of laughter to his left. “Ticklish?” Dan asks.   
  
“Like you don’t know,” Lovett replies. His voice comes out shakier than usual, at least one octave lower.   
  
Dan’s hands drift, one settling around Lovett’s thigh, the other moving up, over his chest. The barest hint of stimulation over his nipple, and then Dan’s hand is near his collarbone, his forefinger and thumb splayed out. When Lovett looks in the mirror, it’s as if Dan’s hand is a collar, waiting to be put around his neck.   
  
“You’ve got big hands,” Lovett says.   
  
“You know what they say about guys with big hands,” Dan jokes. His other hand moves just a bit closer, just right at the edge where Lovett could maybe feel something against his cock -- 

“Big gloves,” he chirps, and Dan’s hands move away, back behind Lovett to his shoulders.   
  
Dan reaches over and scoops more lotion; the scent of it is thick in the air and it’s making Lovett feel dizzy and blissful. He turns to face Dan. “I liked where your hands were.”   
  
“I know you did,” Dan replies, “but you did ask me to do your shoulders and back.”   
  
Lovett rolls his eyes dramatically but turns back around, and then Dan is back against him, this time with his hands on Lovett’s shoulders.   
  
Lovett hasn’t gotten a massage in ages, and even when he did try to use Soothe regularly, it was detached and clinical, relaxing but professional. This, though, the feeling of someone who loves every inch of your skin stroking and rubbing you with his big warm hands, it's a lot. . Dan’s hands are strong and sure and he doesn’t hesitate to press into where he knows Lovett is tense. His thumbs move in small circles, getting right to points of pain that melt under his touch. 

“The world does a number on you, huh?” Dan says. He brushes his thumb over a muscle in Lovett’s neck, then presses harder, until Lovett almost squeaks with pain. The release that follows leaves Lovett with his mouth open, a shudder running through him. “That’s it -- just relax.” There’s a note of humor in Dan’s voice, but he’s being sincere. 

His fingers move up Lovett’s neck, nearing his curls. Lovett feels wet warmth at the nape of his neck.   
  
“Getting your fill?” Lovett says. Dan just hums, occupied with kissing where Lovett’s still damp from the shower. His hips gently tilt forward as he moves his head to the side; Lovett can feel his dick pressing through his sweatpants.

Lovett tries to remain relatively calm, but after a few minutes of this he’s leaning forward over the counter and trying to keep quiet. Dan doesn’t seem to mind; his movements are steady, even as his hands slowly move back down to Lovett’s shoulders. He massages there for a little while, trying to ease any ache he might’ve given Lovett by pressing hard moments earlier. Lovett would say something, but Dan has stolen his words, leaving him with nothing but gasps and the occasional sigh.   
  
“Where did --” Lovett spreads his fingers out so his hands are flat on the counter. “Where did you learn to do this?” he groans.   
  
Dan shrugs. He kisses Lovett’s shoulder, using a little bit of suction -- the barest hint of a hickey. “Old girlfriend. She wasn’t as responsive as you, though.”   
  
Lovett grabs onto that statement in an attempt to stop himself from turning into a puddle at Dan’s feet. How many boyfriends have done this for him? How many boyfriends would do this for anybody? “What, am I -- am I particularly responsive, or something?”   
  
Another huff of laughter from Dan. “Babe,” Dan says, “Look up.”   
  
He reaches around and tilts Lovett’s chin up so Lovett can see in the mirror. 

Lovett can barely recognize himself. He’s flushed, cheeks pink. His eyes are wide and dark. Even in the mirror, he can see himself shiver, can see his body trembling with each breath. He looks wrecked, his curls mussed up from Dan’s hands in them. And nothing’s even happened yet. His cock sits untouched, pressed up against his boxers, a steady stream of precome making a damp patch in the cloth.  
  
“I’m going to have to take another shower,” Lovett says breathily.   
  
Dan smiles at him in the mirror. “Is that a complaint?”   
  
“Oh, definitely not. Continue, please.” 

“Of course. Glad to be of service.”  
  
Dan’s hands drift lower, his thumbs pressing against Lovett’s shoulder blades. From there they move lower, drifting over the sensitive spot at the small of his back. Dan squeezes Lovett’s hips, looking down at his work, at Lovett’s ass pressing against his dick. Lovett can see his paintbrush eyelashes in the mirror, can see the glint in his eye that he gets whenever he’s really focused on something.   
  
His fingertips move over Lovett’s waistband, and Lovett decides he’s had enough. “As relaxed as I am, Dan, I think maybe we could --ahem-- _ move on _?” 

Dan steps back and nudges Lovett so he’ll turn around. “Can’t handle a little teasing, Jon?”   
  
Lovett shivers and steps forward, tilting his head up to capture Dan’s mouth in a kiss. It’s filthy, all heat and tongue. Dan pushes Lovett back against the counter with his hips, ducking his head to kiss Lovett’s neck, his collarbones, his chest. He leaves a trail of kisses in his wake, squeezing Lovett’s hips, before he’s crouching down and looking up at Lovett.   
  
Dan’s trying to look seductive, but Lovett can still see the earnestness in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Lovett says quietly. He reaches up and runs his fingers over the peach fuzz softness of Dan’s hair. “That’s where you wanted to be.”  
  
Dan nods, a tiny motion that only Lovett could detect by touching him. Slowly, his hands move up Lovett’s legs, over his knees, until his fingertips are underneath his boxers, brushing over soft pale skin.   
  
“You like it,” Lovett continues. “You like being on your knees for me.”   
  
“Love it,” Dan says, or maybe he says Lovett’s name -- it’s hard to tell. Either way, his fingertips press against the back of Lovett’s thighs. He leans in, nuzzling his cheek against Lovett’s cock, hard and tenting against the thin fabric. Everything is soft and warm; Lovett feels like he might be running a fever, he’s so hot.   
  
Dan has suddenly gone from being enormous to the point where Lovett was drowning in him, to small, small enough that Lovett could consume him entirely and Dan would thank him for it.   
  
His metaphors are getting confused. It doesn’t matter. He's a little dizzy from the steam and the stroking.   
  
Dan hums and squeezes Lovett’s cock through his pants, careful not to rub too hard and risk discomfort. His other hand moves under, between Lovett’s legs, squeezing his balls. Lovett leans against the counter and widens his stance a bit more so Dan can have more space to work.   
  
“Calling me a tease,” Lovett says. “You’re teasing _ yourself, _ doing this. You could get me naked and suck me off right here, but you wait. Because you like it as much as I do.”   
  
Dan’s hand moves, his nails digging into the flesh of Lovett’s thigh. It cuts through the haziness in Lovett’s mind and makes his arousal all the more insistent.   
  
“Love you so much,” Dan murmurs. He rubs his cheek against Lovett’s cock through the fabric. “Love the way you look, the way you feel, the way you smell…”   
  
Lovett flexes his fingers against the countertop. There’s too much going on in his body for his mind to work as quickly as it usually does. “Love _ you,” _Lovett says. “I want…” 

Dan’s begun to tug Lovett’s boxers down, barely an inch, just enough to tease around the base of his dick.   
  
“I want to do this to you, too,” Lovett says. “Maybe I could -- maybe I could give you a massage, too, maybe -- maybe on the bed? I could -- I could be of service to you, too -- God, you’re beautiful…” 

The energy in the room shifts, suddenly. For a second -- not even that, a millisecond or a nano second or another measurement of time that is extremely small -- Dan freezes, pauses his movements against Lovett’s body. When he continues, his movements are less natural, more mechanical. It’s like he’s stopped speaking extraneously and now is reading from a script.   
  
“Dan?” Lovett asks. He reaches down and tilts Dan’s chin up. “Baby? Did I say something wrong?”   
  
“What?” Dan blinks at him. “No.”   
  
“Would you like me to give you a massage? It was just an idea.” Lovett never wants to make Dan feel uncomfortable.   
  
“Uh. Sure.” Dan offers a smile. It’s strained, automatic.   
  
“Is there any reason why you sound so hesitant?”   
  
“No, I’m not hesitant.” Dan rubs up and down Lovett’s thighs soothingly. “I…” he trails off.   
  
Lovett lets him think for a moment, gather up his words. Right when he opens his mouth to speak, though, a phone rings elsewhere in the house.   
  
Dan sighs and closes his eyes. “That’s my realtor,” he says. He’s been looking at places in Los Angeles for months -- Lovett’s seen him looking at houses online -- but this is the first Lovett’s heard of an agent. “I should probably take it.”   
  
“Saved by the bell,” Lovett jokes, quirking his lips up. “Go call her back.”   
  
“Are you sure? I can --”   
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Lovett assures him. “I can ravish you later. I'll be here.”   
  
Dan smiles in relief and stands, wobbling a little after being on his knees for so long. He quickly pecks Lovett on the lips. “I owe you a blowjob.”   
  
Lovett would have preferred an answer to his question, but he can’t say a blowjob is a bad consolation prize. “I’ll be sure to cash it in at the worst possible time,” he quips. “Go call your realtor.”   
  
Dan turns and walks out of the room, leaving Lovett flushed and half hard in front of the mirror. He looks at his own reflection and shrugs to himself.   
  
Hey, at least he’s moisturized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, cheers to @fizzy_smile for beta-ing.


	3. brought to you by... candles that burn at both ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to @fizzy, as always, for beta-ing this.

When Dan and Lovett started dating, Lovett could tell that his relationship with Dan was going to come as a shock to some people. On top of the news of Dan’s new-dimensions-of-sexuality, there’s the simple fact that, on the surface, Dan and Lovett appear completely incompatible. Dan is serious where Lovett is goofy, Dan is obsessed with sports where Lovett pretends he can’t tell various sportsballs apart, and Dan would never in a million years wear one of the various rainbow accessories Lovett dons on the daily. But Lovett has a long list of reasons that Dan is perfect for him, and not all of those reasons require an extensive knowledge of Dan as a person.    
  
Here’s one that’s obvious: Dan and Lovett are both huge flirts.    
  
They flirt for different reasons, of course. Lovett flirts because it’s funny; he likes to throw people off balance. Often flirting with them is the best way to do that. He also likes seeing people blush and giggle and grapple with the fact that a short gay comedian is flirting with a tall straight guy, the taller and more macho looking the better. It’s a great foundation for jokes, and can be a harmless way to form camaraderie. Lovett would never ever try to make anyone uncomfortable, but if they’re up for it, he’ll happily go out of his way to make a friend blush and feel like they’re being paid attention. Because really, who doesn't like feeling appreciated for what they bring?   
  
Dan flirts because, while he’ll never admit it, his heart is actually a pretty butterfly and it flutters around to whichever flower is nearest. (Lovett’s words, not Dan’s.) Dan finds the whole of humanity to be fascinating, and can easily fall in love with everyone from the Starbucks barista to the aquarium specialist at the pet store to the congressional aide who helped him set up his interview with AOC. He doesn’t overtly come on to anyone, he stays decorous, but Lovett can tell when he thinks someone’s attractive. He’ll perk up, lean forward a little bit, get a twinkle in those baby blue eyes. His smile will be wider, his giggles more easily available. He radiates charisma. Basically, he’ll be how he is with Lovett, but in public.    
  
Lovett doesn’t mind at all.    
  
They’re at Jon and Emily’s house, celebrating… okay, Lovett can’t really remember what they’re celebrating, but Emily told him to come over and to bring wine so here he is. He even put on a nice shirt for the occasion, and his rainbow sneakers. Dan, of course, looks like the english lit professor everybody wanted during their freshman year of college. He got a haircut and a shave, so he’s extra peach fuzz-esque, and he’s wearing his favorite plaid shirt. His cheeks are also pink, and Lovett knows why.    
  
“Go tell her she looks nice,” Lovett says quietly, leaning over from where they’re sitting on the couch.    
  
Dan looks at him like he’s crazy. “Why would I do that?”    
  
“Because she looks nice, and you’re a good friend.” Lovett takes a sip of his drink and looks at where Tommy is thoroughly crushing Jon at Mario Kart. “Jon, comfort yourself in knowing you have the nicer car.”    
  
“I’m getting lapped by the computer,” Jon complains.    
  
“In a nicer car,” Tommy points out.    
  
Dan turns to speak to Lovett quietly. “Won’t she get mad?”    
  
“Why would she get mad that you said she looked nice?”    
  
“But… Jon?”    
  
“If Jon gets jealous when another man says his wife is beautiful, he has a whole lot of people to be jealous of.” Lovett honestly could argue this all night; he has nowhere else to be, and it’s a nonsense discussion. Dan has a simple, harmless crush on Emily that has gone on for literally a decade and about which absolutely no one cares.    
  
Dan swallows. “And you…?”    
  
Lovett smiles at him and resists the urge to reach up and pat his cheek condescendingly. Dan's streak of chivalry runs deep; if he lived in medieval times he would’ve died on the battlefield defending a young maiden’s honor long before Lovett (in this universe a juggler, or the king’s fool, or the royal mathematician) would have had a chance to meet him. “You’re mine, Dan. A little bit of flirting with a pretty friend isn’t going to change that.”    
  
Dan looks down, shy. Lovett nudges him and Dan nudges him back.    
  
“I’m yours?” Dan says quietly. On the screen, Tommy and Jon are deliberately slowing down so as to force the other person to receive the blue shell.    
  
“I’m allowed to be a little possessive, don’t you think?” Lovett says. His smile fades a bit. “I hope that’s okay.” He doesn’t want to sound like a creep; Dan isn’t an object for Lovett to put on a shelf. But Lovett feels so proud and happy to be with Dan, and somehow "possessive" is the word that comes to mind.   
  
“No, it’s - more than okay.” Dan glances up and watches one of Jon’s friends, someone Lovett doesn’t know, cross the room, just barely managing to climb over Hanna, who’s sitting on the floor, without spilling wine all over the carpet.    
  
“All I’m saying is that I know how you feel about me. You’re not subtle. You're an . . .  _ effective  _ communicator is probably the phrase I'd use.”    
  
Dan smiles and meets his eyes. “I’m crazy about you.”    
  
“I know you are. I’m crazy about you.”    
  
“Yeah, but - I dunno.” Dan swallows. “After I got divorced I thought… maybe I would never be lucky enough to have a… whirlwind romance…”    
  
“Hey, don’t get all misty-eyed on me,” Lovett warns gently. “I’ll have to take you out back and kiss it better, and it isn't really polite to do that in public.”    
  
Dan chuckles and raises his beer bottle to his lips, finishing it. “Don’t act like you’re not as much of a romantic as I am.”    
  
“I’m not as cuddly as you are. You’re like a teddy bear. I’m more like a porcupine.”    
  
“Did you know in Florida it’s illegal to have sex with a porcupine?”    
  
Sentences like that are the reason Lovett fell in love with this man. “What?  _ What?”  _

Beside them, Tommy raises his arms in triumph while Jon demands a rematch.    
  
“You heard me. In Florida it’s illegal to have sex with a porcupine. Now, the reason that law exists is because…”    
  
“Oh my God, what a - what a prickly situation!” 

Dan rolls his eyes and grins. “I’ll be impressed if you have any other quill-centric comments.”    
  
“I don’t, except to say that pricks sure do fascinate you, don’t they?”    


Dan giggles and looks like he’s about to make his own porcupine-related joke when Emily walks over, stepping over Hanna’s legs. “Dan, do you want another beer?”    
  
“Uh, sure, I’d love one, thank you.” Dan hands her his empty bottle. 

Lovett nudges him again.    
  
“Uh, Emily?” 

Emily turns, her blond hair swishing as she moves. “Yeah?”    
  
“You, uh, you look really nice,” Dan says. Lovett can barely hear the quiver in his voice;  _ attaboy,  _ he thinks, and then wonders when he became a sitcom dad.    
  
Emily beams. “Thank you, Dan.” She looks over at Lovett and nods at him. “This one’s a keeper, Lovett.”    
  
“I know,” Lovett replies. “I’m planning on keeping him.” 

\---

He won’t say so, but Dan has been burning the candle at both ends all week. On Sunday, he took a look around Lovett’s house and declared it to be  _ in need of repair,  _ so Lovett got the chance to see Dan with a toolbelt around his waist, unscrewing some valve in the basement attached to the water heater that Lovett hadn’t even seen before. Then he oiled all the door hinges and attached the headboard to Lovett’s bed that Lovett had been putting off installing for months. Then Lovett had dragged him into the shower, because really, he’s only human, and he needed to suck Dan’s dick after witnessing all this high-intensity high-quality testosterone-infused caretaking.    
  
On Monday, Trump blurted out a truly incomprehensible statement about China that brought the country this much closer to World War III. They didn’t have an emergency pod, but Dan did come on to talk about healthcare and how the President is trying to dismantle it and how the news is ignoring this because of the China thing and how the China thing is still important but this is important too, and long story short Trump is an idiot.    
  
On Tuesday, Dan got a call from a communications firm he’s been doing some consulting for. Apparently there was some sort of client crisis, and he had to drive all the way back to San Francisco to clean it up. Lovett didn’t hear from him most of that day, but he did hear Dan’s iPad, dinging from the other room every time he got a new message. There were a lot of dings. 

On Wednesday, Dan worked on the podcast, refilled his prescriptions, and stayed up late doing research for his next book. It’s on social media, and how it can be used to promote political good instead of political evil. It ended with him going to a library ten miles away to get a book that-- despite being literally about the rise of technology and the end of paper media-- is not available on kindle. 

On Thursday Dan got a phone call that put a very big frown on his face. It stayed there the entire day and returned, albeit a bit faded, the next morning.   
  
On Friday, Lovett was able to leave the office early, but Dan, kissing him on the cheek briefly before turning back to his laptop, said that he’d have to stay a bit later. He promised, though, that he’d come home and cook dinner. Just the two of them.    
  
Lovett isn’t mad that Dan still hasn’t come home yet. He’s just trying to figure out how to make this work.    


No, they won’t reschedule. It’s not like dinner is the real problem here. The real problem is getting Dan’s attention. Bless him, he has so much going on in his head that Lovett is surprised Dan remembers to eat and sleep.    
  
Of course, there was a time in his life when he  _ didn’t  _ remember to eat and sleep, but that’s neither here nor there. 

Dan gets home with a breeze flowing through the doorway - if he had more hair it’d be windswept. “Got caught up writing something for the newsletter,” he says, “and then there was this stupid thing with the car, and the software I’m using to edit wouldn’t work, and then Trump tweeted something about Iran and I had to ask Tommy what it meant, and it wasn’t good, and - anyway.”    
  
Lovett nods from his spot on the couch, offhandedly grabbing the Xbox controller and turning away from his boyfriend. “Sounds like a lot. I’ll be playing Siege with Spencer if you need me.”    
  
He glances back, and gets exactly what he was looking for - Dan stopped in his tracks, his jacket hanging limply from his hands, the picture of confusion. “But - I was going to cook.”    
  
“Were you?” Lovett says innocently. He sets the controller down. 

Dan narrows his eyes. Lovett sees the kindling being lit, the fire beginning to grow. “No, it’s - go ahead,” he grits out. His figure broadens as he stands up straight; he always does that when he’s frustrated or annoyed. He makes himself bigger, as though he doesn’t dwarf Lovett already.    
  
“Unless…” Lovett stands and walks around the couch, batting his eyelashes and keeping his footsteps light. “You have something else in mind.”    
  
Dan’s expression changes from one of confusion to annoyance. “Can I help you, Lovett?”    
  
“I could ask you the same question,” Lovett says casually. “You sound kind of frustrated. You’ve actually sounded kind of frustrated for a day or two.”    
  
Dan’s mouth opens, the tip of his tongue touching his teeth as he thinks of what to say. Lovett can feel a more abrasive side of Dan emerge; the one that commanded troops in the White House and helped win campaigns on the road. The one that works hard and - Lovett knows - plays harder. “Well, that’s because I  _ am. _ ”    
  
“May I ask why?” Lovett leans back against the couch. He’s just in a t-shirt and jeans, but he thinks he looks pretty cute. He brushed his teeth before Dan got home. He’s ready to go.    
  
”I’ve got about twenty things on my mind right now, ten of which are out of my control, two of which involve the health of this democracy, so yeah, I’m pretty fucking frustrated!” 

”Wow,” Lovett says, stretching out the word. “That must be really hard for you.” 

”Jon, I’m not here for you to be fucking flippant -“ 

”Would the stick up your ass be in the ‘control’ or ‘out of control’ category?” 

Dan’s eyes flash with anger like a hot blue flame on a stove. He opens his mouth to speak, but then just closes it again.

“Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?”    
  
“No,” Lovett responds easily, “I’m just trying to figure out what works for us, Dan. If you’re going to get as excited for me as you get angry about everything else, or if that passion only works one way.”    
  
Lovett turns, stretching, and heads to the bedroom. Dan follows him; Lovett feels deliciously like an antelope being stalked by a lion.    
  
“What the hell do you want, Lovett?” Dan gets right up in his face. It’s fantastic; Dan radiates heat and power.    
  
“Me?” Lovett tilts his face up. “I want to make sure we’re communicating openly, here. I want to know exactly what you want, without apologies, without conditions, without assumptions made beforehand. I want to know you like - like you know yourself. Can you do that? Can you - can you show me what it’s like to be at the front of your mind? On the top of your list?” Lovett allows himself to smile. “I’d like to be on top of you, too, while I’m at it, but that’s just a bonus.”    
  
Dan’s eyes flash. He sucks in a breath of air; Lovett can practically see the gears turning in his head.    
  
Dan operates like so many in Lovett’s life - he responds well to power and leadership. But Dan also recognizes the games Lovett likes to play, and knows how to respond in kind.    
  
“That what you want?” Dan reaches forward and tugs Lovett in, pressing them together so they’re flush against each other. “You want some fucking attention?”    
  
_ Always,  _ Lovett thinks,  _ always want your attention.  _ “I want to know -” And Lovett has to remember to speak because then Dan’s ducking down to nip at his neck, sometimes it starts like this, Dan doesn’t even start with a kiss - “if you’re into it.”    
  
Dan scoffs, reaching down to pick up Lovett by his thighs. Lovett lets himself be manhandled, wrapping his arms around Dan’s neck and his legs around Dan’s waist. Dan doesn’t move him far, just lowers him down onto the bed, kissing his neck, his jawline, until finally he meets his mouth.    
  
Dan’s kisses are fire-hot, vibrant, good enough that Lovett knows the buildup was worth it.    
  
“The fact that I’m -” Dan shoves a thigh between Lovett’s legs, “here doesn’t give you a clue?”    
  
“We’re both writers,” Lovett says, “I like words.”    
  
Dan rolls his eyes and sits up, tugging his grey t-shirt off. “I’m into it,” he says.    
  
Lovett runs his hands over Dan’s broad chest, down his sides, pulling him back to kiss him again. His hands sneak lower, trying to find his belt buckle. “You can do better than that, Pfeiffer.”    
  
“I’m into it,” Dan repeats. “Fuck, can I suck you off?”    
  
“Well that helps, but…” Lovett slips his hand inside Dan’s pants, squeezing his cock. He’s already half hard. “One more time for me?”    
  
Dan groans and pushes Lovett back, moving to tug his pants off. “I’m into it, okay! Jesus Christ, Lovett, you have  _ no  _ fucking clue…” A smile flashes across his face, one of disbelief at himself. “God, you piss me off and I want you so fucking bad, no idea…”    
  
“Maybe you’re a masochist,” Lovett giggles, and Dan’s hand pauses on Lovett’s thigh, squeezing him tight, his nails digging into Lovett’s skin.    
  
“Get your clothes off,” Dan says. “Want you to ride me.”    
  
“Ah, so dinner isn’t  _ only _ what he wanted!” Lovett exclaims.    
  
Dan growls, low in his throat, and pushes his own pants down and off. He goes for Lovett’s underwear, licking his lips. “God, you’re intolerable.”    
  
“And yet…” Lovett trails off as Dan climbs back up his body to kiss him. He’s enormous, muscles shifting, broad shoulders adjusting to the position. Dan reaches up and pushes his curls back, moving so their cocks are next to each other between their legs. 

“Give me your tongue,” Dan says. “C’mon.”    
  
Lovett rolls his eyes. Dan is so  _ visceral  _ \- it’s awesome. “Mm, ask nicer than that, babe.”    
  
Dan rolls his hips, causing pleasure to curl up Lovett’s spine. “Please,” he whispers, “give me your tongue. C’mon.”    
  
Lovett opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue a little, and allows Dan to kiss him like this, wet and filthy and open. Dan sucks on his tongue and moves his hand down to squeeze Lovett’s cock. 

“Gonna fuck you,” Dan whispers, “until you can’t speak anymore.”    


“That the only way you know how to shut me up?” Lovett murmurs. He lightly nudges Dan off of him and moves to get the lube. Dan audibly whimpers at the loss.    
  
“Just want to be in you,” Dan replies. When Jon looks back, his eyes are clear, his expression open.    
  
“I got you, baby,” Jon soothes. “I got you.”    
  
He stretches himself a bit, wriggling down on his own fingers, before straddling Dan’s hips. Dan smiles up at him.    
  
“Give it to me,” Dan asks. “C’mon, Jon, give it to me, please.”    
  
“Say it again.”    
  
“Lovett -”    
  
“Your cock stretches me out so good, Dan, but I can’t until -”    


“Please!” Dan cuts him off. “Please fuck me, please, I want it, I want my cock inside you, please, fuck me, please -”    
  
Lovett lowers himself onto Dan’s cock with a sigh and doesn’t waste any time before he starts riding him, hips working the way he likes. 

“ _ Yes,”  _ Dan hisses,  _ “yes, oh my God, fuck, fuck me…” _   
  
Dan may complain when Lovett gets mouthy, but even he will admit that during these moments,  _ he’s  _ the loud one. 

\---

Afterwards, when they’re showered and in bed (Dan in boxers, Lovett in Dan’s old Obama ‘12 t-shirt and briefs), Lovett finds the right moment to speak.    
  
“You want to tell me what really got a bee in your bonnet, today?” He asks.   
  
Dan raises an eyebrow at him, looking up from his phone. “A bee in my bonnet?”    
  
“Bee. In bonnet. Where’d it come from?”    
  
Dan sighs. “Well, aside from… everything I mentioned earlier…”    
  
Lovett nods. “The list of twenty things.”    
  
Dan closes his eyes. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”    
  
“You didn’t, not really - focus on the subject. What’s really going on? And don’t just say it’s the president.”    
  
Dan thinks for a moment. “There’s… this house, about twenty minutes from here. It’s for sale, and… I’ve been trying to buy it.”    
  
Lovett shifts onto his side, leaning on his elbow. “I know that.” Dan hasn’t been on the phone with his realtor every few days for nothing.    
  
“I’ve been searching for a while, and… I don’t know, it was like… this house looked perfect, you know? It’s accessible, so when my mom visits she wouldn’t have to go up stairs, and there’s this little plot of land that… anyways, the owners changed their minds, and the price went up, and I guess… that’s that.” He shrugs. “It’s really not a big deal. I haven’t lost anything.”    
  
“You just had your heart set on that spot specifically.”    
  
“Yeah.” Dan looks away. “It just feels like every time I get a step closer to living here, to living closer to Crooked, closer to  _ you… _ something sets me back.” He sighs again, deflating like a balloon. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just discouraged. I’ll keep looking around.”    
  
“I’m here to help if you need me,” Lovett says reassuringly.    
  
Dan lies back on the bed, facing the ceiling. “I know. I just gotta get that one place out of my head. You build a future in your mind, y’know?”    
  
“I know.” Lovett feels that way sometimes when he looks at Dan.    
  
“It’s really a huge first-world problem; I just let it get to me.” Dan smiles at Lovett. “You make me feel better.”    
  
“I have that effect on people,” Lovett replies smoothly.    
  
Dan chuckles and closes his eyes, wordlessly putting his phone on his nightstand. Lovett turns back to his side of the bed.    
  
“Dan?” He asks.    
  
“Yes?” Dan replies, not opening his eyes.    
  
“Would you send me a link to the house listing?”    
  
Dan opens his eyes a fraction. “There’s nothing you can do, Lovett,” he says seriously.    
  
“I know,” Lovett responds. “I just -- I want to see what was nice about it so I can keep an eye outfor similar houses.”    
  
Dan relaxes. “Okay. I’ll email it to you tomorrow.” He closes his eyes once more.    
  
Lovett pulls the covers up and over him and stares at the ceiling. Try as he might, he can’t stop thinking about Dan’s Dream House.    
  
There’s nothing he can do -- Dan had an idea, but there’s an obstacle in the way preventing him from seeing that idea through. It’s completely out of Lovett’s hands.    
  
… or is it?

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to @fizzy_smile for editing this.


End file.
